


A Shepherd's Duty Is...

by princevector



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Tainted AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 13:42:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3449255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princevector/pseuds/princevector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In these hours of despair, there are pitch-black holes in my soul. While all is lost and I can't forgive myself, I will follow you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Shepherd's Duty Is...

**Author's Note:**

> Fandom's take on what the bad ending of Zestiria really should have been.

Dying is normal. Death is normal. It’s a part of a human’s life. Yet it’s happening all around him, and with each and every fallen soldier does he take the burden. A burden that tears at his chest and constricts his airways. Still, even if his limbs were battered and beaten he refused to give up. If there’s a will, there’s a way.  


_That’s a job easier said than done._

Within the mess of war, voices booming and the sounds of metal clashing together fills the dreary air. The battlefield reeks of death, chaos and nothing but madness and rage surrounding them. Green eyes glance weakly onward to armed men slashing and stabbing the enemies, vision partially impaired as of late. Rather, partially was an understatement. At this point Sorey was fairly certain that he’s lost about thirty percent of his vision in one of his eyes.

_That’s nothing he can’t handle. He’ll get used to it._

“Sorey, you can’t—!”

“I don’t want anyone else to die!”

Perhaps that is where Sorey made his first mistake. As the Shepherd, he had to remove the Taint while remaining free of impurities. He’s learned that the Taint from war-torn battlefield is far different than the stains littering the water of an ancient temple. Never did he expect for matters to spiral nearly out of control like _this_. He couldn’t abandon the mercenaries abandoned by their own army. They absolutely _weren’t_ going to die, not on Sorey’s watch.

Even while the Lawrence soldiers screamed out _“monster!”_ and _“demon!”_ when he displayed his own powers. Better than death, Sorey convinces himself, even if they were on opposing sides. Let them run in fear than face death head on. Perhaps they could lessen the amount of Taint that’s already plaguing the area. Yet at times he feel’s the Shepherd’s power can only do so much against the Taint.

The Taint being the immortal impurities that come back, no matter what, because humans are just that filthy. Seraphim are afflicted as well, and he sympathizes more with the divine beings, simply because he’s one of few who can see them, interact with them, (and) protect their feelings and wishes. Of course, Sorey continues to remain neutral while cleansing the impurities on the battlefield, for he truly wishes that no more lives are lost during this depressing war.

So when he feels a Taint so heinous that it makes him nearly stagger, Sorey just _knows_ that he has to face this threat. Despite Lailah’s protests, claiming that the source belongs to the Lord of Calamity, he insists, once again repeating that he won’t allow anyone else to die. Of course, the Seraphim respect the Shepherd’s wishes, despite how dangerous they may be. They allow him to fight the impurities, and oh, what a fight it is.

“ _Are you afraid of dying?”_

Winning isn’t the end of it though. Surrounded by an evil force, known as Heldalf, brings him to a suffocating standstill. Darkness that claws at his spirit, an aura that impales him like a poisoned spear; it hits him with such tremendous pressure that he vomits up the fear that he can only otherwise scream out through words.

He repeats name after name of the Seraphim, _“Mikleo! Lailah! Edna!”_ but the voices do not return his call. Not once does he think it’s the end, even as he’s surrounded by tainted soldiers before falling into the darkness that’s been reaching for his back. The unconscious world has taken a hold of Sorey’s spirit.

—

The unconscious world is not kind to him during the next twenty-four hours.

Chaos and destruction, all surrounded by an endless white panorama. Not heaven nor hell, just an empty world that appears inescapable. Trapped like a bird, so it seems. A glance around, and he concludes that he’s standing atop a tall cliffside. Rather bizarre, considering that this world greatly resembles a place unfitting of this world.

_Purgatory?_

Sorey clutches at his chest, takes a deep breath, exhales out a portion of the doubt consuming his spirit.

_No, still very much alive._

He feels the stagnant air surrounding his body and allowing its presence to reside around him. There’s an ominous aura that stains this world, and as the Shepherd, he can certainly see the Taint drifting past his gaze. He’d consider it impossible, but dreams allowed for endless possibilities.

_How scary._

Maybe that scared him more than anything. Try as he might to act fearless, there was certainly a lot Sorey was scared of. Losing friends, loved ones…. _losing himself._ He once feared death but the thought lingers in the past, now that his goal as a Shepherd is fully clear in his mind.

_Sorey fears that one day, he’ll lose track of his path. That, one day, he’ll truly and completely lose himself to the darkness chasing after his back._

_Or perhaps, it’s already—_

_No, he absolutely refuses that thought. He knows he’ll be fine._

Even if he knows he’s flirting with the tides of darkness around every corner, he knows he’ll be fine. Everyone will be fine.

——

Several weeks have passed since their first experience through brutal bloodshed and war torn scenery, and a little too much has changed for Mikleo’s liking. He’s glad that Sorey’s found someone who can see the same world as him. A human who shares the power of _Kamui_ , wielding great spiritual energy, and an incredibly strong asset as well. While her background and previous work makes her beyond suspicious, Sorey seems to trust her. Mikleo thinks of her as suspicious, but he also trusts Sorey’s judgment.

He’s been watching Sorey more closely, particularly on this frigid evening. Watching him convince the others that he’s alright, that he’ll protect all of them; one wouldn’t think Sorey’s changed in the slightest pass off those observations. However, these _are_ Mikleo’s observations, and he knows when just a misstep in Sorey’s gait indicates trouble. The churning anxiety that twisted inside his stomach worsened as he watched the Shepherd struggle with reading the scriptures on the wall, a new trouble that started brewing only a few weeks ago. He’s noted, coincidentally, around the time he formed a pact with Alisha.

Worst yet is that occasionally he’ll catch glimpse of a rather empty expression written across Sorey’s face. It’s an expression that’s simply unreadable, except as _empty,_ like a part of his soul is missing. Whether reading a book or investigating a new set of ruins, Sorey’s expression just match who he really is.

Of course, he’ll catch Mikleo staring, erasing the doubt with a grin that sends a wave of relief coursing through him. Relief, but he absolutely _knows_ something is off. Still, he approaches more casually, laying a gentle hand on Sorey’s shoulders.

A smile. That’s a good reaction. But it’s far from satisfying. Sorey closes the book in his hands, gaze back to its original warmth, and his heart aches again. Mikleo shakes off _that_ feeling, returns the smile, and sits down next to him.

“Found another book to read?” Was the first question that came to mind, despite thousands of others pushing off the tip of his tongue, begging to be spoken. Mikleo wants to start with the basic questions, slowly building his way up into a comfortable conversation. Sorey shifts slightly, a little closer to him, and Mikleo can feel their arms gently brush.

_(It feels nice.)_

“Yep! It’s one about the next set of ruins we’re bound to visit. Wanna take a peek?” He gestures the book into his hands, in which Mikleo politely declines with a small, briefly stating he’ll peruse through its contents later. Sorey doesn’t protest against the Seraph’s response, a content hum rumbling past him before he gently leans against Mikleo. They would sit like this all the time, enjoying each others warm while they read or napped together.

It simply felt natural; Mikleo adored moments like this, just as much as he adores Sorey. He’s so lost in the moment, that his original intentions were lost in the soft hums and excited words that only Sorey could produce. It was like music to ears, a fine tune that he can easily fall asleep to.

That’s exactly what he ends up doing. Sorey notices, making sure he’s resting comfortably against his shoulder. The only music he needs is the soft breathing that escapes Mikleo.

—

Sorey awakens to a sharp pain twisting inside his chest. Gasping for air and covered in sweat was not the way he wanted to wake up, but the pain was so sudden and startling that it was certainly understandable. The surreal dreams he experienced were bearable; weird at best, but certainly nothing that sent chills down his spine. The nightmares were an entirely different story. He’d find himself wandering through ruins, with only Mikleo by his side. That’s a normal start.

It’s when the miasma appears, shrouding the ruins and the pair in darkness. Whispers fill the creaks of the walls, speaking empty words to them, make him want to vomit and cleanse out the impurities racking his body. Only when does he glance around the area does he notice that Mikleo has gone missing. No matter how many times he calls out to him, there’s no response. A ominous wind whistles past him, brushing against his brown tussled hair and stinging his cheeks.

_Then…. Then there’s the dragon’s roar._

Only then does he awake and the world of conscious embraces him once again. Sometimes Mikleo will be there by his side, sometimes he won’t. Sorey learns that it does feel better having his best friend there, gently holding his hand for support. He can’t ignore the slight trembling from the Seraph, and offers a reassuring albeit weak smile to the other.

_I’m alright_ , he mouths, and Mikleo, still quite dubious, does not believe him in the slightest. Sorey insists, stubborn as he is, that he’s stable and there’s nothing to worry about. Yet, as he tries to reassure Mikleo, with each and every time he awakens, there’s an unexplainable void in his soul, small at first, but with each reoccurring nightmare does the void grow bigger, and it feels even stronger too. Too self-aware now, yet he won’t tell the others about this. He wouldn’t want to worry them, after all. Sorey can’t bear to see the concerned looks they’d all share.

—

“I’m fine, I’m fine!”

“You were spacing out again!” He jabs his chest accusingly, lips formed into a firm scowl. A sigh. “What were you muttering about anyway?”

He already knows what Sorey said. _I’ll get used to it,_ and that troubles Mikleo.

“It’s nothing! I’m fine, there’s no need to worry—“

A sharp pang runs through him causing him to wince and clutch at his chest. The impact, so sudden and so painful, causes him to fall to his knees. Mikleo rushes to his side, ignoring the throbbing pain in his head as he grasps Sorey’s shoulders. Almost immediately did he noticed the others labored breathing and trembling shoulders. Mikleo shifts so he’s carefully holding, _supporting_ him, all while listening to Sorey mutter incoherent words under his choked breaths.

“Are you alright?! Sorey!”

He’s godawful at lying, but he wants to avoid making the other miserable. Always with his selflessness; Sorey wanted to see Mikleo smile with him, always, and forever. Better yet if they could smile together, but how much happiness could he still experience these days? Killing hyouma was clearly taking its toll, or so he’s concluded. Lailah warned him about the Taint, about how the Shepherd must remain free of impurities, amongst other matters.

_(How is one supposed to remain free of impurities when this world is filled with filth?)_

“Sorey… You…”

“Mikleo, are _you_ alright?”

The Seraph flinches, ready to retort with harsh words before Sorey raises a hand to interrupt him, sitting up weakly and shaking his head.

“The Taint is affecting you, I can tell. You haven’t been well lately, am I right?”

He’s reminded of how much he loves Sorey, but all at the same time hates how he leaves himself vulnerable around him. Mikleo can only laugh softly, a forced sound, as fingers curl around Sorey’s sleeves. He’s revealed too much and he’s unsure if he can ever go back.

“Just… Just a bit,” He breathes his words out in a shaky sigh, now leaning against Sorey’s body. The intimacy was awkward, tense even, but the close contact was something only the two of them could experience. None of the other Seraphim who accompanied them understood the full intensity of their relationship, and Mikleo… rather liked that. That only _he_ could experience this intimacy with Sorey. Yet he didn’t want Sorey to lose his friends. Not once, _never_. If it meant giving everything up just to keep Sorey alive and with amazing friends by his side….

_That thought is quickly pushed away at the slightest consideration._ He could never leave Sorey. That would surely break him.

“Mikleo… There’s no going back, is there?”

That’s when he wraps his arms around Sorey, hugging him tightly. He knows, _they both know_ , and it hurts just to accept it.

“… Probably not.”

—

Dragons. Tainted Seraphim become dragons. Powerful beings, often too powerful to slay.

In his nightmares, there is a beautiful white dragon, whose purple eyes glow with the most sadness and rage that Sorey’s ever seen. A sight that he could only describe as breathtaking. Truly breathtaking. His eyes can only marvel in the warm glow from the dragon’s eyes, whose gaze reflects back with that intensity, so strong that Sorey really _does_ forget to breath for a moment.

_There’s pain in its eyes._

“Do you want to be saved as well?” Clearly free from self-control, those words are the first that come to mind. A silly question in hindsight, but Sorey also has quite the curious mind.

The dragon breathes out, a low growl whistling through its large snout but it looks onwards, back at Sorey, as if contemplating the question. Yet, Sorey remembers, _knows_ , that it’s likely that the dragon doesn’t even comprehend his question. A sad smile plays on his lips.

“I want to save you too. Even if it’s impossible.”

—

“Sorey.”

He looks up, vision half darkened by the ever permanent blindness corrupting his right eye. Mikleo can see through his white lies, knows why the Shepherd hides important matters from him, but doesn’t sit down accept Sorey’s ways. Of course, he’s incredibly hypocritical in his reasoning as of late, suffering from the same Taint that’s afflicting the other. Slowly shifting, Mikleo gently takes Sorey’s hands in his own, letting the warm brush against his cold skin.

“I’m here, Sorey.”

He nods. It’s too silent, not befitting to Sorey’s normally boisterous and charming disposition. Rather, it’s quite unsettling but Mikleo also knows that _this_ is also Sorey. It’s him and not him at the same time. All this time he’s known just how bad the Taint is, that it can completely transform a human, but sometimes just seeing their personality change before one’s very eyes is frightening all on its own.

_Death truly changes a person._

“Mikleo.”

The sudden shift in tone startles him. It’s dark, all too serious, even for Sorey. His grip tightens, wanting to make sure the other won’t slip away from him even further.

“Let’s rid the world of these filthy humans. _Together._ ”

A sharp pain shoots through Mikleo’s body, pooling around his soul. Sorey’s uttered nonsense before and he quickly assumes this is the Taint speaking. Of course he hasn’t lost sight of their goal.

_Of course not._

“What are you talking about? That’s not our goal! Please, Sorey—!”

“Mikleo. Are you trying to save me?”

A sharp inhale. Of course he could read through him. The history between them ran so deep, it was only natural that they could finish each others thoughts. Usually that connection warmed Mikleo’s heart, but right now it has quite the opposite effect; it only further sends chills down his spine, his aching heart crying out to deaf ears.

“I—“

“It’s too late. I’ve been far too tainted,” He reaches up, gloved hand caressing Mikleo’s cheek. Thumb stroking the soft skin, enjoying the contact that only _they_ could truly understand and enjoy together. The distance between them had shortened within just seconds, and Sorey speaks again.

“But I can still save you.”

The pain that intensifies quickly fades and fizzles throughout his entire body, just as fast as he leans forward to brush his lips against Sorey’s. That was the breaking point. How much more suffering Sorey could handle—Mikleo didn’t want to know. He couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ leave Sorey alone. He’s already losing his personality, and that’s all he could handle at this point.

He nuzzles into the crook of Sorey’s neck, breathing in sharply, allowing himself to relax once again. At this point his grip on Sorey is stronger than his very own soul, and he refuses to let go.

“Saving me would require us to go our separate ways. That means I’m not going to be saved, Sorey.”

_That was the last time Mikleo heard the most beloved person in his life laugh so genuinely, it nearly breaks him to pieces._

—

Sorey and Mikleo were often described as living in a world of their own. Originally it was used in a metaphorical sense, half-teasing the adventurous duo. Who know that the expression would one day be taken in the most literal sense.

In which a world of bloodshed and death are of absolute normality in their eyes. A world in which slaughter becomes second nature to them, and sometimes they’ll find great thrill in watching humans fall to their pitiful deaths. The other Seraph, lost in the mess of despair and Taint, are completely left behind in their wake.

A white dragon circles the area, sending tidal waves upon masses of enemy soldiers. Its cry echoes over the land, a victorious fanfare whose song can be heard from miles away. The one that stands atop the massive cliffside looks down on the war, the violence and bloodshed that’s endless erupting between humans. His condescending, his judgment never-ending.

He looks down with empty eyes. The eyes that once held warm and kindness now only reflect cold and cruel untold stories, ones that will never belong in the history books.

They don’t need history books. They’ll rewrite history and its order by themselves. With their bloodstained weapons, they laugh in the darkness of shadows.

The world doesn’t need humans, right? Then the world doesn’t need a savior, either.

  


**Author's Note:**

> i'd like to thank the zestiria twitter crew for all the help with ideas!


End file.
